


Weightless

by Jadewing47



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Anorexia, Anxiety, Child Abuse, Depression, Dissociation, Flashbacks, Multi, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Dick Grayson, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Separation Anxiety, Wally West Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadewing47/pseuds/Jadewing47
Summary: He'd always imagined that escaping would take everything away. All the pain, the bruises, the cuts, the nightmares, the sadness, all of that would fade once he left.But instead, it's worse, he's numb, he's cold, he's broken, and he doesn't know how to fix that. He can remember nights when he'd lay in the hospital bed, Robin's hand gently stroking his hair, imagining what it would be like to truly escape the emotions he's plagued with;  to feel weightless.Sequel to A Dark Secret
Relationships: Barry Allen/Iris West, Dick Grayson/Wally West
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

Here, surrounded in the quiet of my new room, I'm restless. The room is nice, larger than my old one but not large enough that I'm overwhelmed. The walls are painted a light beige color, the floor is dark walnut wood. Upon entering my room there is a nicely sized desk to the left where the laptop Dick had given me rests. My bed is next to it, placed in the corner where I can see everything. I'm sure that was on purpose, which I'm both angry at and grateful for. The ceiling tilts down above it, as both mine and Dick's room were on the top floor of the Wayne Manor where the roof slants in some places. I like that though. There are windows in the back of the room. I've opened them despite the cold, and the curtains, which are green, are blowing softly. From my window, I get a nice view of the woods which are dark, the sky a nice indigo color and dotted with tiny stars. In the far right corner of my room, there is a dark wooden door that leads to a nice bathroom which is all mine to use. The walls of the bathroom are a darker beige color. There's a large vanity with a mirror that can light up if I press a button in the corner of it. The bath is huge, with all sorts of odd settings that Alfred tried to explain to me. There is a separate walk-in shower in a smaller connected room. It's needless to say that I have plenty of space.

Still, the room seems almost too quiet after spending close to two months in the hospital with the never-ending beeping of machines. My phone is on top of the dresser in my walk-in closet on a charger. It was a new one, Dick had handed it to me in a crisp box along with a pair of red headphones the day that I had arrived here. When I'd asked what happened to my old one, he'd told me quietly that I wouldn't want to see the messages. Had it been anyone else I would have been upset, but I could see the anger in his eyes and I trusted that he was right, especially if whatever he had seen on my phone had upset him enough to buy me a new one. Sighing, I swung my legs off the bed, wincing at the dull ache in my abdomen that the action caused me. I have pills for that, but I don't take them.

I walked soundlessly over to the dresser and unplugged my new phone, taking it and the red headphones back with me. I sat on the bed and leaned my back against the wall, plugging the headphones in and opening Spotify. I was already signed in to a new account with my name on it. I felt my lips twitch upwards in the suggestions of a smile: the account had premium, something I had never been able to afford. I searched up the username of my old account, wallflower, and downloaded all my old playlists. Scrolling through one, I selected Where Have All The Flowers Gone by Peter, Paul, & Mary in hopes that it would lull me to sleep.

As the guitar began to play softly, I began to bounce my leg. When Mary's voice started, my eyes snapped to the door. I couldn't tear my eyes off from it, my heart beating faster and faster as panic began to overtake me: I couldn't hear the outside world.

Breathing heavily, I tore one of the earbuds out, hoping that by doing that my anxiety would calm, but it didn't, and I angrily tore the other earbud out. I finally turned away from the door, paused the music, turned off my phone and glared at it. Silence was all that I could hear, but still, I could feel my heart rate slowly calming itself now that I could use all my senses to watch for potential danger.

I could feel tears burning behind my eyes, my cheeks heating even though there was no one else in the room to laugh at me. I was so stupid; getting upset because I couldn't hear as well with the music playing. I put my phone and the earbuds on my desk, and sat back down on the desk, drumming my fingers against my leg, staring at the doot, and stayed like that until morning.


	2. Chapter 2

For as long as I can remember, guilt has been a persistent friend clinging to my side throughout my life. There are moments, quite a few of them, where it flares up and makes my stomach churn and lips quiver, but it never really leaves; instead a quiet hum in the back of my head that is annoying and ugly but I can't do anything about it.

It's flaring up right now.

I am so incredibly lucky to have Bruce, Alfred, and Dick at my side. Had they not been there I probably would be in an orphanage, unwanted and wasting away, but instead, I spent my days in a huge mansion with anything I could ever need or want suddenly at the tips of my fingers. Yet despite all this, my brain feels numb and fuzzy like static on a television, and smiling takes energy that I don't have.

Alfred is an amazing cook. I know this because I've stayed over at the mansion countless times and gorged myself on chocolate chip cookies and fancy dinners and buttery rolls. It's 7:45 am on a Saturday and Alfred has made enough breakfast to feed the army. Bruce sits with us at the head of the table, sipping coffee while reading the newspaper. Dick and I sit across from each other. I don't think he sleeps well anymore, but I guess he never really did before either. Sometimes at night, I can hear him crying in his sleep and calling my name. I've never brought it up but I have considered going to him to assure him that I was alright, but then I remember I'll probably screw something up and he might not even want me there anyway.

Dick is also sipping coffee as he discusses something with Alfred that I haven't been paying attention to. Alfred's made chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, sausage, bacon, and a fruit salad. He's fixed me a plate but I haven't really eaten it. Food tastes like cotton and feels like sandpaper going down my throat. I'm too fat to eat anyways. They'd probably kick me out if I started eating like I used to again.

I don't consider myself anorexic. I've been called it, yes, but I don't believe the term applies to me. I love food, and as a speedster, I can gorge myself with whatever I want since my metabolism burns through it so quickly. I'm used to stuffing my face and even though when Artemis insults me about it I don't feel _great_ about myself it isn't enough to make me stop eating altogether. I'm skinny as a rail anyways, and Dick always said I was pretty, and I believed him. But when money got tighter for my father and he stopped buying food for me something inside me snapped. And when he started calling me "fat" and "gross" and "ugly," I think I shattered even more. Food started to give me anxiety, and I got used to eating less and less. Now, eating is a chore and I often forget until Dick drags me out of my room for meals. I try to eat a few bites because I can see the worry in his eyes and I hate it, but eating sandpaper just isn't very appealing and I can feel myself caring less and less every day.

Somehow I think I'm more fucked up than before, but I don't know what to say


	3. Chapter 3

There's a tightness in my arms that's achingly familiar.

It's not my first rodeo, I've done this plenty of times before, but it feels different tonight. I can't sleep. I haven't slept since I got back from the hospital, and the only reason I slept at all there was because Dick held my hand and told me it would be okay. I want to go to him, knock on his door and beg for him just to hold me but I'm scared. Something has snapped the perfect I'm-Okay-I-Promise facade inside of me ever since I woke up to see Dick's unconscious body on the floor in the basement, and knowing that it was over; he knew. I trust him, I trust him with my life and I know he would never hurt me, but my hands still shake at all the _what-ifs_ rattling inside my skull and I keep my mouth shut. If there's one thing my father has taught me; they're less likely to hurt you if you pretend you don't exist.

I can't sleep. I can't listen to music. _What if danger appears and you don't hear?_ I can't think. _Shut up shut up shut up stop thinking!_ I can't _breathe_.

My brain is fuzzy and my limbs seemingly on autopilot as I lurch forward from my sitting position on the bed as though I needed to puke. I'm not exactly sure that I don't, my stomach is churning and I've hardly eaten anything today. My vision is swimming, tunneling as some unknown force pushes me to stand, walking like a corpse to my bathroom in the back corner of my room by my bed. My skin is tingling and my breaths harsh and painful in my throat and I suddenly wonder if I'm dying. The morbid thought brings a muddled garble of a giggle through my chapped lips and I can't decide if I'm happy about that or terrified. My world is spinning, tipping left and right and I'm pretty sure I'm going to pass out until suddenly everything goes still, a pair of dull, broken green eyes that used to once shine bright staring back at me through my bathroom mirror.

I'm not quite sure how long I stand there, staring in disbelief at my own reflection; a person I hardly recognize. I've never let myself sink this far down and I wonder if I'll ever be able to climb back out. I wonder if I'll ever be able to smile again and have it be real and not a mask.

I hate the person staring back at me.

The glass shatters easily underneath my fist, falling to pieces at my feet as a warm liquid begins to drip down my fingers. I'm shaking suddenly, stumbling backward and sliding down the wall, pulling my knees to my chest and _hating_ the pain in my abdomen and my legs where my father had stabbed me. The jagged piece of glass is suddenly in my palm and I don't remember reaching for it but I don't think I care. The burning itch in my arms is overwhelming and it's not long before my wrists are a bloodbath. The pain is numbing, my world spinning and I know I've cut too deep but I can't decide if that matters to me or not. I've shut everyone in my life out and I suddenly regret it because _oh god please I don't want to die alone please I just want Dick to hold me I'm sorry I'm sorry please-_

A scream pierces the air, cutting through my fuzzy brain and the blood rushing past my ears. It's filled with anguish and fear and suddenly the panic-stricken face of my best friend is in front of me, pressing something against my wrists as he screams for Bruce and Alfred. Light spills into the bathroom and the sight of so much blood makes me even dizzier, my head spinning and black spots dancing in the corner of my eyes. Dick is shaking, pressing towels into my wrists and I want to reach out to him and tell him it's okay but I'm losing my grip on reality, and the last thing I see is his panicked, tear-filled blue eyes as he begs me not to leave him.


	4. Chapter 4

After spending so much time in the hospital surrounded by various machines that constantly alerted you of their presence, the persistent beeping of the heart rate monitor coming from somewhere to my left did not immediately strike me as unusual. In fact, it was a small comfort, a noise breaking through my void of silence; an undeniable proof that although I felt dead I was still very much alive. So for a few moments of peaceful bliss, I listened to the machine's soft beeps and briefly considered letting it lull me back to my dreamless sleep until my senses suddenly all came back to me as though someone had decided to flip a switch that powered me on. There was a hot sting in my wrists and they felt tight, as though wrapped in material of sorts. There was a warmer presence at the bottom of them; fingers wrapped around my right wrist.

I forced my heavy eyes to open and tilted my head slightly to the right and was met with a feeling of deja-vu seeing Dick at my side. His fingers were wrapped around my wrist and I realized that he was feeling my pulse. My stomach churned with that realization, a heavy weight at the bottom of it and it only got worse when I saw the look on his face. He hadn't noticed that I was conscious yet as he was staring at the bed, a hollow look in his eyes, and I hated that I'd put that there.

Not trusting myself to speak and being at a loss for what to say I shifted just a tad, anxiety spiking when Dick blinked and suddenly our eyes were locked, dull green to broken blue. I wasn't quite sure what was expected of me at that moment. They really don't write manuals for life now do they?

Dick's fingers around my wrist tightened just a tad but didn't let go and I almost wanted to cry at the thought that he needed the reassurance of my pulse through his fingertips despite the steady beeping of the heart monitor.

"Y-you're an ass." the voice was quiet and dark and I felt Dick's grip on my wrist tighten further. I opened my mouth to speak but no sound came out.

"You were gonna leave me." Dick whimpered. He sounded small, almost childlike as thick tears flooded his eyes and began to roll down his cheeks.

"I-" he cut me off, his free hand clenching and unclenching into a fist as he began to sob, his voice sounding more and more hysterical.

"You were gonna leave me! You were gonna leave and you-you didn't even..I-can't-"

"Dick, I"

"DON'T YOU KNOW YOU'RE ALL I HAVE?" he shrieked, chest heaving. His head dropped to his chest as he cried, "I can't lose you too, Wally" My cheeks are wet now and I realize I'm crying as well.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I just-I-I thought it would be better if-I-I'm sorry,"

"Wally this world would be bitter, and dark, and pointless if you weren't in it."

"That's not true-"

"IF YOU HAD LEFT I WOULD HAVE GONE WITH YOU!" he yelled, then more quietly, "I don't wanna live in a world without you,"

"I-"

"Never do that again," he said, his eyes wide and desperate.

"I won't," I whispered, my other hand reaching around to gently squeeze his.

"Promise me," he begged, and I swallowed thickly before responding.

"I promise."

At that, he practically launched himself at me, never letting go of my wrist as he curled up into my chest, a shaky exhale escaping his lips. I ignored the white-hot flash of pain in my arms as I wrapped them around him and buried my nose in his shoulder, breathing in his scent.

"I love you," his voice was quiet and the words muffled by my shirt but I heard them loud and clear as though he's shrieked inside a megaphone pressed against my ears. They rang inside my head and filled my chest with something warm and real, and suddenly I knew I was alive not by the reassurance of the heart rate monitor but by the sound of my heart rattling inside my chest, the rush of my blood through my veins and the spark of electricity that the simple reassurance, the three words I'd been dying to hear from him ever since I woke up to see him unconscious on my father's basement floor and knowing he'd soon know of my demons filling my soul with life; a feeling I'd missed for far too long. My emotions seemed to be too much to handle and my body shuddered, more tears escaping my eyes but these ones ringing with relief and happiness; a feeling I thought wasn't created for my mind. I cuddled him closer to me and my lips split into a smile that wasn't forced and wasn't fake as I poured all these emotions into the four words I spoke softly back to him,

"I love you too."


End file.
